


Hot-Chocolate-Number-8

by paladinquen (postmodern_robot)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Some Ice Skating, nedcanvday2019, some hot chocolate, some of everything!, some university
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 04:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postmodern_robot/pseuds/paladinquen
Summary: Willem's been looking for the Matthew he met at the rink - the one who wore jersey number 8 when he played ice hockey, and who apparently always ordered hot chocolate. Unfortunately he doesn't know "Matthew's" last name, and there are a lot of "Matthews" at this rink.Meanwhile, all Matthew wants to do is to survive planning this wedding...





	Hot-Chocolate-Number-8

**Author's Note:**

> Names:
> 
> Matthew - Canada  
> Willem - Netherlands  
> Jett - Australia  
> James - New Zealand  
> Arthur - England  
> Francis - France

After practice, Matthew likes to sit in the bleachers with a steaming mug of hot chocolate and watch the speedskaters make their rounds. He finds it calming to listen to the the crisp clinking of their blades on the ice, and observe their graceful movements against their incredible speed. After the stress of wedding planning with two of the most temperamental grooms in history, and his own ice hockey practice where he’s been slamming into as many people as possible to release his pent up aggression, he needs a chance to calm back down.

Besides, there’s a new face doing the rounds lately and he’s poetry and grace on ice personified; tall and lean with an aura of commanding silence around him. Watching him in particular is a meditative experience, and Matthew feels a little strange to just be sitting there to watch one person these days. He tries not to make it too weird and leaves as soon as he’s done with his hot chocolate, every time.

Until this one time…

 

* * *

 

Willem was surprised when he had received the wedding invitation. But...since he was going to be in England anyway on his sabbatical, he figured that this particular wedding would at least be thoroughly comedic. It’s a strange change of career in some people’s minds - from Olympian speedskater to Economics lecturer, but Willem had known at the beginning of his career that his speedskating days were going to be short-lived and had planned accordingly. It gave him a certain rock-star status among his students anyway. Retired didn’t mean dead.

Before his own practice, Willem likes to see the ice hockey players slam around each other for the puck. It’s oddly therapeutic to see violence and poetry so neatly intertwined. Especially that one, number 8. Number 8 isn’t exactly vicious, he just clearly has strategy and purpose, and woe betide anyone who gets in his way. He’s neat and graceful in his movements, merciless in his attacks. Willem finds himself watching from the side, trying to get into number 8’s head to figure out the strategy and predict what happens next. It’s an engaging mental exercise and whenever he thinks he’s figuring number 8 out, he gets surprised again.

  
Willem only ever starts suiting up for the ice himself after the ice hockey players disband. It’s the perfect timing, that way when he gets out, the Zamboni has finished and the ice is ready for him. Willem finds that if he doesn’t go through the familiar motions of skating at least twice a week, it’s just too strange for him, post-professional skating life or no. His mind focuses absolutely once he’s back in his familiar world of speed and technique. He doesn’t have to go as fast as he used to, so now he just maintains a comfortable speed that still enables him to occasionally notice people and things of interest around the rink.

Today he notices the cute guy sitting on the bleachers.

Willem shouldn’t be checking out cute guys while he’s skating - slow for him is still too fast to be distracted and still maintain his course and…he’s going to crash.

Shit.

He hasn’t crashed like a novice in...he can’t even remember now, his head hurts, his shoulder hurts, there’s no blood or cuts but ice is hard. He decides to lie back on it and let the cold numb the pain - not the physical pain, that’s easy. It’s the pain of embarrassment. Hopefully the guy didn’t see...

“Are you okay?”

Nope, no such luck. Of course it’s the cute guy from the bleachers. Willem decides not to answer.

“Oh that’s not a good sign. Okay well…”

Willem closes his eyes and lets those firm hands feel around his body, checking for broken bones and other injuries most likely. Willem winces when he’s prodded in places that are likely bruised, but otherwise decides to stop acting like a child. “I’m fine, really, just some bumps. Noting fatal.” He tries to get up, falls back down, then a strong arm helps him sit up.

“Still, you should get checked out.” Cute-guy-from-the-bleachers insists with a concerned tone, and Willem can’t really turn him down. He’s compromised, and he’s basically nose to nose with a man who is unfairly more attractive close up, than he is from a distance.   
  
“Only if you come with me.” Shit. He really did say that didn’t he? Well he may as well own it by now. “I’m Willem, and you’re…?”

“Matt...Matthew. Yeah and...you shouldn’t be alone anyway. Come on.”

Willem allows himself to be lifted. Cute guy could probably carry him, which is pretty impressive, but Willem also doesn’t want him to think that he’s completely hopeless. Cute guy also hasn’t recognized him...which is equal parts disappointing yet refreshing. “You don’t sound English? You here on a holiday?” Please don’t be a student, please don’t be a student...

“Um, I’m a post-doc.”

Post-doc...well that is workable, as long as… “Post-doc at Oxford?” As opposed to Oxford Brookes or any of the other smaller institutions around here, although if Matthew was attached to a different institution, then it really would be much easier.

“Yeah.”  

Humble - Matthew didn’t want to say which school. This is getting better and better - good looking, kind, strong, smart...what’s the catch?

“What department?”

“History.”

Willem is equal parts relieved and nervous - on the one hand, he’s totally able to date a post doc in a different department. On the other hand, Matthew’s curt answers don’t indicate much interest. This is probably the catch. Hell, Willem feels like a creepy interrogator now.

“Well Willem, the paramedics are here, I’ll let them take over. Hope everything’s alright.” Matthew hands him over with a smile and damn, it dazes him for a moment.

Later, he’s sent home with a mostly clean bill of health except for a mild concussion. Willem has to rest for a few days, but then...well he’ll head back to the rink to see if he can find Matthew again. He even practices his lines in front of the mirror - “Hey Matthew, thanks for your help the other day. Can I take you out for coffee?”

No - “If you don’t mind, could I buy you a cup of coffee?”

Or...no damn it that sound stupid too...how about…?

 

* * *

 

 

Matthew is absolutely surprised when Mr Poetry and Grace slips and crashes into the wall. He’s up and at his side before he even realizes it, and looking into a pair of dazed light-green eyes. Grace and Poetry looks familiar this close up somehow? But Matthew disregards that thought. He’s been sitting here staring at the guy skating around for weeks, that’s why he looks familiar. 

After Willem is taken away, Matthew feels...kinda embarrassed. He’s clearly a nice guy, trying to hold a conversation while clearly suffering a mild concussion, even more, Willem is interested in asking questions about Matthew - he said nothing about himself. Matthew isn’t used to this kind of treatment, and anyway, he was a little too worried to answer anything properly. A tendril of regret starts growing in his chest. Today is Matthew’s last day at the rink for a while, wedding preparations are coming to a head in these last few weeks, and Francis and Arthur need all hands on deck. Matthew should have at least asked Willem what he was doing here, that way there was a chance to track him down again, but...well...Matthew wasn’t always the best at casual conversation like this.

Idiot.

 

* * *

 

By the time Willem is fully recovered, a week has passed. He heads back to the rink to find Matthew but...Matthew is nowhere to be found. On top of that, the ice hockey team that meets there before his usual practice time doesn’t meet as regularly, and even when they do, number 8 is nowhere to be found. Is Matthew…?

If Matthew is number 8, on top of all his other too-attractive qualities, Willem really wouldn’t be surprised. He’s also a bit of a cynic though, so he’s also secretly prepared for Matthew to be married or a serial killer or something, because no one is allowed to be THAT perfect, what the hell? Or if he is that perfect, why would he be single?

But Willem is pretty sure, just-recovered-from-a-concussion-or-not, that he didn’t dream Matthew up, so he’s going to ask around. He starts with the concessions lady who runs the drinks shop near the bleachers, and eventually that initial quest introduces him to the entire community at the rink, because everyone knows a ‘Matthew.’ 

“Matthew? Sure! Which Matt? Hot chocolate Matt? Coffee Matt? Electrolyte Matt? Oooh...Matt with the tattoos?”

Well this is a public rink and he’s asking the drinks lady. She probably knew every single Matthew who had ever stepped in here and it’s not exactly a unique name. Unfortunately, he can’t single any of these Matt’s out so he actually tries to meet each of them. None of the ones he meets are his Matt.

“Oh sweetheart don’t sweat it, the only Matt you haven’t met is hot chocolate Matt! And he never stays away for long.”

Still, Willem decides to keep searching.

“Matthew as Zamboni Matthew?”

Willem had no idea but probably not…? Still, he was introduced to Zamboni Matthew - a pleasant 70-year-old retiree who drove the Zamboni at the local ice rink just to stay connected to his community.

By the time two weeks have passed, Willem has met every single Matthew he can possibly meet at the rink. He’s pretty sure by the end of the second week that most the people there have figured out exactly which Matthew he’s looking for, they’re just purposely messing with him to make sure he keeps returning to the damn rink. He doesn’t entirely mind actually, Willem is new to Oxford and it usually takes much longer to build a community outside of work. He was initially worried that his entire life and community here would be centered around the University or the Economics department. Now he knows the people who live here even if they don’t work at the university. It’s a nice indirect gift in a way, a faster acceptance into a community, that his mysterious ‘Matthew’ has given him.

Now if only he could find his Matthew.

 

* * *

 

 Matthew is so fucking busy with this ridiculous wedding that he hasn’t checked any messages not related to wedding planning in weeks! Seriously, by this point it’s just about putting one foot forward and surviving moment by moment. Francis and Arthur will get married *eventually* they just need to finally get them there...failed flower deliveries or not, last-minute band cancellations or not.

 And anyway, this is the big day. If one of them decides to turn and run at the altar, God help him, it’s not Matthew’s fault!

 Tomorrow he’s going to turn everything off, keep the curtains closed, and sleep all day. He’s earned it damn it, he’s earned the peace and quiet.

 But today...for fuck’s sake.

 "We can’t walk down that aisle without the lilies!” Arthur is frantic, Francis is equally frantic but now anxious. Everyone is fucking unimpressed. If Arthur wasn’t making a fuss about some insignificant thing, Francis was. Jett has been loudly objecting to their behavior the entire time, and James has been pulling out his snarky and sarcastic one-liners.

“Honestly Arthur, I’m starting to think you don’t want to marry me at all!” Francis wails.

Oh no. No no no nope. Francis hasn’t pulled out this nuclear arsenal of words so far, but to throw it out now, just hours before they’re supposed to exchange vows is self-sabotage to an imbecilic degree. He sees the hurt slash Arthur’s face, the immediate regret on Francis’, the tensing from Jett and James, and the nightmarish but very realistic scenario facing them now that Arthur is about to call the wedding off, which means that this ordeal will be extended for another month as Francis and Arthur make up and decide to do this again. Matthew is DONE.

“THAT’S IT! IF YOU TWO DON’T WANT A WEDDING WHY DID YOU DRAG US INTO YOUR HELL FOR A YEAR?! I CAME TO OXFORD JUST TO HELP YOU TWO GET MARRIED! I COULD HAVE GONE BACK TO CANADA! I COULD HAVE GONE SOMEWHERE WARM! SOMEWHERE WITH CONSTANT SUNSHINE! YOU KNOW YOU’RE GOING TO GET MARRIED ANYWAY, WHAT EVEN IS THE POINT OF THIS?! YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK IT! DON’T BOTHER ANSWERING!”

Four dropped jaws and wide eyes face him but no one says anything. Right, Matthew decides to walk outside and take some deep breaths, he doesn’t want to hear what anyone has to say anyway.

As he looks out upon Oxford, he decides he was a little unfair to it. It can’t control its weather and it is a lovely town. Maybe it’s just a little too proud of itself, but that’s something that all towns or cities with old reputable universities suffer from. Matthew also knows that whether he cares about brand-names or not, the rest of the world does, so his time here at Oxford will help his career later on. The problem is Arthur and Francis. They are undeniably soulmates but despite the fact that they were both capable of writing such wholesome and positive stories about love, despite the fact that when it really has counted they really do have each other’s backs, they can be poisonous to everything around them when they’re both stressed.

Matthew sits on the grass, tux be damned, and sighs. He hasn’t played ice hockey in weeks and that affects how well he can control his own stress. He tries to recall it now as he breathes in with deep breaths - the crispness of cold air, the sound of blades hitting the ice, the vibration in his body when he hits the puck, the frictionless and free world that allows him to move faster and freer than he ever could on land. He thinks of a lone figure of poetry and grace making his rounds. But even poetry and grace can crash. It’s not a frustrating thought or memory at all, it’s oddly calming. It reminds Matthew that even beautiful things can crash, it doesn’t make them less beautiful. Actually, now that he thinks back to Willem’s befuddled attempts to make conversation, close-up human failures can make someone even more intriguing, shinier, brighter. Love is like anything else - a sport, a discipline, a skill. It takes work, it takes getting back up again and again to develop something that people can dream about if they don’t know any better. Of course everyone has limits and they should have limits - no one should stick to someone or something that harms them more than grows them. But, at its core, being good at love, and deserving love must be earned - through practice, through respect, and through forgiveness.

He had wanted to help Arthur and Francis have the fairytale wedding that they wanted. They had all met at Merton College, having been ‘adopted’ by Arthur and Francis in their first year as students. Today, Arthur and Francis were supposed to marry in the Merton College Chapel to honor the happy memories. Matthew’s previous comment notwithstanding, it’s actually sunny and beautiful today. It’s perfect. Everything about the arrangements are stunning enough, French lilies in the bouquets or not, and he personally knows that Arthur and Francis do actually love each other beyond such small symbols. So what is going on? Is it his own work? No it can’t be, this was a team effort.

When the wind shifts, Matthew realizes he isn’t alone. Arthur and Francis are sitting next to him despite their white tuxes. That surprises Matthew somehow, despite knowing how much Arthur used to escape to the woods in younger years, and Francis’ own adventures. They’re usually so picky about their appearance. Jett and James aren’t too far behind, collapsing to lie fully on the grass.

“Oh...my back…” Jett moans. Matthew understands that kind of pain - the pain of all that tenseness finally allowed to relax.

“Are we forgiven yet?” Arthur tentatively asks. Both he and Francis wear identical sheepish smiles.

“Not quite.” Matthew answers. “If you two didn’t actually want to get married you could have said something before we went through all this time and trouble, and you both spent all this money.”

Francis nods. “Ah, yes. Time, is the greatest gift to volunteer, and the worst thing to take away. It cannot be given back. We are sorry Matthew, to all of you, for taking your time.”

Arthur clasps Francis’s hand and adds, “We knew _we_ had wasted a lot of time during our journey to each other, and gave a lot of people around us grief as well. We were hoping that today, we could try to make it up to everyone, and each other, by creating the most perfect day possible.”

“Yes, and we got too carried away. Small mistakes would mean we didn’t care enough about each other or the rest of you to fix them.”

Matthew can hear James speak from behind him, irritation clear in his tone, “As if we care if one flower is missing.”

Arthur and Francis have the rare grace to look embarrassed. “Right,” Arthur mutters, “Well, we were overwhelmed and you’re right Matthew. We don’t actually want a wedding.”

Matthew panics for just a moment until he really takes in how happy and peaceful Arthur and Francis both look, hand in hand. How released and relaxed they are. Oh…good butterflies start beating in his chest as he smiles and says, “Wait so…”

“So!” Francis proudly proclaims, “I have just booked us a train out of here. We will sign the necessary papers and go straight to the honeymoon. This is all we need honestly, and by now it is kinder to not subject you all to further misery. Sorry for leaving but we have left behind plenty of food and a venue for everyone to enjoy all day. Have a party! On us! This way, everyone is happy!”

Arthur smirks, “Most of these tossers are just coming for the entertainment value of us getting married anyway. I think they expect a fist fight part way through the vows. They’ll just have to be satisfied that we left them food.”

And just like that, Matthew is the host of a giant party. But...he’s not complaining. Not one bit.

 

* * *

 

 

It figures. Willem reads the mass message that Arthur and Francis has sent all the guests on his phone and has to laugh. Typical Arthur and Francis, build up all the drama, then leave the remains of it behind while they run off somewhere else to be filled with their own drama. At least this time it’s good remains. Most importantly, Willem isn’t paying for this party.

He’s also dressed for a party and he may as well do something different today instead of hunt for hot-chocolate-number-8-Matthew at the rink (he’s since figured out that they are indeed one and the same). 

Since there’s no ceremony to witness, everyone is just trickling into the room where the food is being served, where the alcohol is on tap, and where the dance floor has been set up. Willem isn’t the world’s best dancer, but no one has to be when everyone else is drunk. He’s just reached the bar and is about to remedy his own sobriety when he sees a familiar face.

No way…

No fucking way…

It’s Hot-Chocolate-Number-8-Matthew! It has to be! Looking glorious in a tailored dark burgundy tuxedo with black collars. His cheeks are red, his hair is tied but kind of wild, his bowtie and the top two buttons of his white shirt are undone, his inner vest is unbuttoned. Matthew is dancing on the floor with a team of children, hopping up and down with them, sometimes pretending to be a dinosaur. He looks like he’s been dancing for a while.

Willem knows he’s gone. This is it. No one is ever going to live up to Hot-Chocolate-Number-8...Matthew.

“What’ll it be?”

“Hot chocolate.” Willem answers the bartender without even thinking about it. He can’t take his eyes off Matthew.

Dishevelled looks good on him.

“Hot chocolate?! Eh, sure but you have to pay for it, only drinks are free.”

That is the weirdest statement that Willem has heard in a while, but he’s also the guy who’s just ordered hot chocolate instead of booze at a bar...where alcohol is free. Well, it’s just another thing to mark the moment isn’t it?

When the bartender returns with a mug of hot chocolate, Willem looks back at a grinning Matthew who’s carrying a little girl fly on his side, her hands extended like Supergirl and decides...well fuck it. He’s too old to be a coward. He picks up the hot chocolate and slowly approaches, making sure not to spill it on anyone or his own hand.

  
Willem almost crashes into a buff man with a bandage over his nose, who drunkenly peers at him, then at Matthew (Willem really was that obvious wasn’t he?), and down at the hot chocolate. “Hot chocolate huh? Well...that’s new at least. Kinda...yeah sure why not? G’luck mate!”   

There’s a few more almost accidents but somehow, Willem makes it with perfect timing. The song changes, Matthew places the girl down and when he stands up with a relieved but happy smile, Willem is right in front of him. He sees Matthew’s expression change, from wide eyed surprise, to a slight frown of ‘where have I seen this guy before?’, to recognition.

“Hi.” Willem smiles. He doesn’t even need to be drunk for his, his adrenaline is doing the job well enough. “Hot chocolate? I haven’t really had a proper chance to thank you for coming to my aid.” Coming to? What did he just say?

“Oh...uh...thanks! ...Will...em. Willem! That’s you! Willem-poetry-and-grace!”

What? He takes in the flushed cheeks and the bright smile. “Right, yes, I’m Willem. Nice to see you Matthew. You’ve been at this party long?”

“I ORGANIZED this party!”

“Hey!” And echo of two voices shout behind him and Matthew laughs.

“WE organized this party! It’s a good party right?! They’re finally married! And in love! And it’s about fucking time! And they didn’t need a party to prove it! Love wins! And you brought me hot chocolate you’re perfect!”

Willem has to laugh, he looks at Matthew’s adorable face and says, “You are so drunk.”

“But I’m a happy drunk!” Matthew then downs the entire mug of hot chocolate, leaving a chocolatey moustache on his mouth that Willem has to strongly resist kissing or licking. “And happy drunks dance with good-looking guys so come on! Dance with me!”

Willem doesn’t know the entire story - why is hot-chocolate-number-8-Matthew organizing Arthur and Francis’s wedding? But he has plenty of time to ask about it and find out. He’s also not used to the idea of being in debt to Arthur and Francis to this degree, but...he’ll happily live with this too.

 

* * *

 

 

By evening, Matthew feels more sober but still happy. Maybe that’s the thing about weddings, even if they start off kinda disastrous - it’s a bringing together of loved ones to celebrate love. That’s what happened today, even if it wasn’t fully traditional. Francis and Arthur spammed the wedding messages with pictures of them heading off on a cruise to their next great adventure, sun kissed and beaming. Meanwhile, the party had danced, and danced, and drank and were merry.

 “I wonder if that’s a sign of something, that everyone is happiest celebrating them when they’re far away.” Matthew laughs. Maybe he’s not that sober yet.

He’s left the party, sorta, wandering around outside under cover of stars and moonlight. Willem is still at his side. It’s kind of funny, that somehow Arthur and Francis have indirectly introduced him to the guy he’s been staring at for weeks. That the guy who he’s been staring at for weeks is the same guy that Arthur and Francis mutually complained about but in an oddly fond way (and hey, he had been invited to the wedding so...but maybe that was purely for the celebrity power).

“Hm...they can be a bit much when it comes to large things. They’re their best in small company. Is this wedding the reason why you haven’t been back to the rink? Everyone misses you, especially Sarah.”

Sarah, maker of the best hot chocolate at the rink, favorite of all the kids and Matthew too. Matthew feels his cheeks flush and tries to keep his brain forming words properly. “I miss her too, she’s like everyone’s Aunt there. So, who else have you been getting to know at the rink?”

“Hmmm...well, Zamboni Matt, Coffee Matt, Matt the Penguin, Matt who only learned how to skate last year, Matt-number-15, Ma-”

“What the-? I knew there were a few Matthew’s other than me, but I’ve never counted! You have a thing for the name Matthew? Or you just have some funny luck?” Matthew laughs somewhat nervously. It’s a weird coincidence.

Willem stops walking, which makes Matthew stop too, looking back quizzically. He’s about to ask what’s going on when he sees the look on the other man’s face. Willem is smiling at him, fondly and warm. They’re standing near a streetlamp, and the partial light illuminates Willem’s face beautifully. Matthew thinks he forgets how to breathe for a moment.

“I met all the Matthews at the rink because I was looking for you.”

 

Oh.

 

“And…” Willem trails off, glaces up at the stars for a moment and lets out a short laugh. “And...I was hoping to find you to ask you if I could take you out...buy you some hot chocolate, say thank you and get to know you, if you’d want. I mean I guess I bought you hot chocolate today, but I don’t think bar hot chocolate is the best?” 

Matthew can’t help the grin breaking out on his face. Poetry and Grace went looking for him because...oh wow, “Don’t sell it short, it was the best hot chocolate I had today.”

“Hmm…” Willem smirks. “So...I dunno Matt, would you be okay with me taking you out to find the best hot chocolate in this town? I feel like it’ll take a few tries at least.”

Matthew can’t believe this, but as long as it’s actually happening he can’t run. He takes in a deep breath to calm his rapidly beating heart, steps forward, takes one of Willem’s hands into his own and looks up into those warm eyes. “I’m up for a hot chocolate adventure. We’re on.”

 

* * *

 

 

Two years later…

 

His husband tastes like hot chocolate. Hilariously, hot chocolate isn’t the best taste in a kiss but it’s the memories of all the hot-chocolate-laden kisses they’ve shared since their first date two years ago. Willem is happy to keep the kiss going forever, but there’s going to be more time for that later.

 They decided to have the wedding at the ice skating rink. It’s not a traditional choice, but who cared about that anymore? It felt right. It also felt right to have it be hot-chocolate themed. Sarah and all the hot chocolatiers they have met over the years are mixing up their best versions of the brew. It great, it keeps everyone happy but still sober. The kids are particularly ecstatic.

 Some things don’t change. Sometimes Willem is still “Poetry and Grace” the same way Matt is “Hot-Chocolate-Number-8” but in other ways...

 Matthew is more perfect now that Willem knows him, than he already was when he first saw him slamming and swerving around everyone in the rink. Matthew is warm kisses in cozy cafes, hidden kisses in the corners of the university, a mug of hot chocolate whenever they’re rushing through publication deadlines, the heavy warmth by his side when they cuddle on the couch and talk about the future. Matthew is burning ice when he’s angry, but no matter what he’s always the best thing in this universe - and today, Willem has the honor of sliding a ring onto Matthew’s hand and vowing forever.

 Matthew takes his hand and smiles at him. For a moment, Willem is lost in his husband’s striking eyes, the flush in his cheeks, in how good his white tux looks on him. This is his husband. He’s so damn lucky.

 “Ready for the next event?” Matt asks.

 “Yeah. Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Julia! Here is your gift - I tried my best to incorporate the ice skating, and their comparison is more internal than in dialogue but I hope it's okay. Happy Valentine's Day! Sorry for the delay!


End file.
